one day we'll learn to love naturally
by pepperpepperoni
Summary: A three part romance story starring Hermione Granger, the greatest witch of her generation, and Draco Malfoy, the most pompous git in his.
1. part one: Hermione's

**first meetings and second glances**

* * *

 **2003**

Hermione Granger doubts that Harry 'the Chosen One' Potter can ever finish his report in time, what with the wedding coming up and all. She has never understood the hassle of weddings, considering that she's never tried to plan one. Still, she can be empathic when she needs to be—and seeing Harry looking absolutely knackered in his office is enough for her to offer her help with the reports.

"We're in different departments, Hermione; you can't just do my work and let me take credit for them." Harry had replied with a tired smile.

"They wouldn't know!" Hermione had hotly protested.

" _Hermione_ ," Harry then prompted, giving her a sharp look that clearly said: 'I can handle this on my own.' With that, he ended the conversation and she went back to her desk, fuming at how ungrateful he was.

 _Unbelievable_ , she growls in her mind, _they've copied off of me their entire life in Hogwarts and suddenly they're too good for it!_

She pours her anger by finishing the rest of her paperwork, letting her quill fill in the measly pages. It's not unlike Harry to care about his work, considering that it was his dream to become an Auror when they were young. Maybe she shouldn't have reacted so aggressively towards his response. She'll apologize later or maybe not at all. Fights between her and Harry never seem to last forever.

"Ah, Miss Granger? You have a meeting with the Minister in ten. He requested for your presence in Courtroom Ten," she hears a faint high voice from the doorway. She looks up to find her rather timid assistant whose bright orange hair did not match her personality at all.

"Thanks, Amanda. I'll be going then." Hermione replies politely as she fetches her robes with a flick of her wand. She stands up from her desk and gives one last look at her office, noting how her quill is still writing the reports and how the stack of papers at the edge of her desk are organizing themselves to the compartments she assigned. She gives her wand another flick and everything comes to a stop.

She walks out of her office, and is greeted outside with different wizards and witches scurrying along the hallway. Although it doesn't seem like it, the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures has always been a busy department. When Hermione first entered the Ministry after officially graduating at Hogwarts, she fell in love with the smooth wooden floors and the high bricked walls. However, her passion for S.P.E.W. is what truly motivated her to pick this department. Her choice clearly shook the Wizarding World but, then again, any of her choices no matter how simple rattles the common minds that read Rita Skeeter.

She quickly maneuvers her way to the lift, squeezing in with the other folks too busy with their work to notice anyone.

Once the lift reaches Level Eight, most of the passengers come pouring out, leaving only her and a wizard from the Department of Mysteries. Another person climbs on the lift, clearly annoyed at the absent-minded wizards that pushed him on their way out.

Except, Hermione realizes, this person is not just another random wizard.

She recognizes that scowl. She also recognizes the pale complexion, the sharp features, the cold dark gaze, and the platinum-blonde hair. She'd recognize him from afar, considering she's spent seven years of her life trying to tune out his bloody insufferable insults.

"M-malfoy?" Hermione hates that she stuttered at that.

At this, Draco Malfoy turns around in surprise. Hermione then sees in close quarters why many witches find him attractive. His jaw line grew to be sharp, and his chin long with a generous cleft chin. His lips are fuller, definitely thicker, and rosier than last time she saw him. His nose is still pointed, but is now facing downwards instead of the haughty way Malfoy used to face it up. The main difference is his blonde hair, now long enough for him to make a loose ponytail right above his neck. What makes Hermione take a sharp intake of breath is the way his grey eyes pierce right through her. She feels as if he's a teacher, about to scold her for doing something wrong.

"Granger," he greets curtly. He turns again, ignoring her for the time being.

She feels as if her tongue is _too_ dry. But, being the curious witch that she is, manages to ask, "What are you doing here?"

"That's really none of your business, is it?" he replies coldly, refusing to look back at her.

 _Well_ , she fumes in her mind. She shoots daggers at his back, hoping that it can somehow burn a hole through his skin.

"Stop that." Malfoy demands. It's only when he speaks that she realizes she has left a small hole on his robes because of her glare. She squeaks with embarrassment, her facing exploding into embers.

The lift reaches Level Nine and all three of the passengers get out.

"But, seriously, Malfoy," Hermione starts again as she watches the other passenger walk inside the large door to the Department of Mysteries without hesitation, leaving the two of them alone, "what _are_ you doing here?"

Malfoy sighs as he finally looks back at her. This time, his eyes are not as piercing and intimidating, but annoyed. He says, "If I tell you, will you please shut up?"

"Sure," Hermione replies breezily.

"Today is Lucius Malfoy's trial."

She turns pale, but not as pale as Malfoy is (if she's being honest, no one can be paler than Malfoy). Did the fact that today is the older Malfoy's trial slip past her? Surely the current Minister, the ever-so graceful Kingsley Shacklebot, would have told her yesterday when he informed her about this meeting. But, as she rattles her brain to remember the exact events, she realizes that Kingsley seemed unable to concentrate that day. Maybe that's why he's forgotten to tell her such important information.

Hermione wants to ask Malfoy again (what _exactly_ is he going to do whilst at the trial?), but remembers that she has a promise to honor and Gryffindors _honor_ their promises.

They start to descend the stairs on the left. She notes how grim the dark stone walls are, wondering if the Ministry designed this so that the person on trial will understand how precise and efficient his punishment will be if ever found guilty. The old lanterns that hang on the walls look especially ghastly.

When they reach the end of the staircase, Hermione is relieved to see Kingsley himself in his dark robes, waiting quite impatiently with his arms crossed over his chest. Relief also dominated his features once he sees Hermione skip over the last few steps of the staircase.

"I'm glad you're here, Miss Granger," Kingsley greets. He looks over to Malfoy who's clearly disinterested to see the Minister. With a small smile, Kingsley greets the man, "You too, Mr. Malfoy. I believe you are needed inside immediately, yes?"

At Kingsley's rhetorical question, the large wooden door in front of them opens slowly.

Malfoy, although looking grim and distant, manages to say politely, "Yes, thank you, Minister."

He swiftly walks inside the courtroom without another glance, and the door shuts firmly once he's fully inside.

"I didn't know this was Lucius Malfoy's trial," Hermione whispers immediately, shock written all over her face.

"I forgot to mention that part," Kingsley says with regret. "But, yes, we will be watching his trial. It's part of your training."

"Then why is Malfoy here?"

"Family member. And, also, he's a witness."

Hermione registers the drop of her stomach, unable to reply to her superior. For the second time that day, her empathy resurfaces and she feels pity for Malfoy. Even if he was a nasty bully, Draco Malfoy is still human. For him to be part of the trial to decide whether your father rots in Azkaban or not… well, Hermione will be freaking out if she is in his shoes.

Kingsley gives her an understanding glance. Being part of the Ministry surely has its downsides.

They walk inside Courtroom Ten, and settle at the back, leaning against the cold dark stone walls. The courtroom itself is like an amphitheater, with the wizard on trial sitting wrapped with chains on what's supposed to be the stage. The entire Wizengamot, with their plum-colored robes, sit at the high benches, looking down at the person they're supposed to judge.

Hermione stifles a gasp from her mouth as she looks at the wizard on trial. Lucius Malfoy looks horrible. His blonde hair looks as if it has been stepped on plenty of times, and is now completely frizzy. His usually stern gaze is broken, as if he's given up, while his face is battered. He's donning a simple dark robe, the only thing that prevents him from looking anymore pitiful than he is now.

"He was mistakenly dragged to Azkaban two weeks ago. We've only realized now that he hasn't gone through a formal hearing yet." Kingsley explains, noticing her stifled gasp.

"That's outrageous!" Hermione bursts out, immediately covering her hands over her mouth after the words leave her lips. A few of the Wizengamot glance (well, glare) back at her, one even shushed her rather rudely.

"Yes," Kingsley agrees ominously. He doesn't say anything more, and Hermione decides it's not the best time to ask.

A small gray-haired man confidently takes the podium at the front. He clears his throat and formally starts the hearing, "Today is the fifteenth of September. Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, resident at the Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire, is to be put on trial for suspicion of being a Death Eater and actively participating within that group. Interrogators: Elphias Bret Doge, Chief Warlock; Pamela Bristol O'Brien, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement…"

Hermione watches as Elphias Doge lists off the members of the court. Her gaze, however, quickly turns to the people down below. At the back of Lucius Malfoy is his wife, Narcissa Malfoy, dabbing on her eyes a soft pink handkerchief. Narcissa Malfoy has clearly aged: her wrinkles show when she moves even the tiniest muscle, her blue eyes seem so dim and old from where Hermione is standing, and her long blonde hair has noticeable gray strands scattered about. Beside her is Draco Malfoy, his face stoic at the whole ordeal, but his pursed lips suggests that even he is pressured with all this.

"Lucius Abraxas Malfoy," Elphias Doge cuts through the air. He looks down at the wizard on trial with hard eyes, and asks, "What do you have to say?"

Lucius closes his eyes and clearly mutters, but his voice, despite raspy, is heard throughout the whole courtroom, "I do not wish to deny the court their charges against me. I accept any punishment."

" _Oh, Lucius!_ " Narcissa Malfoy wails at the background. She dramatically leans on his son who, in return, wraps his arms around his frail mother. Meanwhile, the rest of the court all burst out in whispers. Surely, Lucius Malfoy must be mad? He will not put up a fight, despite knowing that his name still has _some_ hold in the Wizarding World?

Hermione alarmingly glances at Kingsley who can only look down in reply, as if expecting this outcome.

Elphias clears his throat, even he is thrown off at Lucius Malfoy's statement, so that the court may keep calm and asks warily, "Are you sure of this, Mr. Malfoy? You have witnesses on the stand willing to defend you against these charges."

"I am sure, Chief Warlock."

The entire court breaks into another bout of whispers yet again. Elphias joins the whispers, glancing at each apprehensive look on the Wizengamot. Hermione can only land her gaze on Lucius Malfoy, who shows no emotion in his face except… defeat?

* * *

Hermione is able to reach Draco Malfoy just moments before he reaches the Apparition Point in Level One.

"Malfoy, wait!" she calls, a bit out of breath from running.

He turns around and gives her a look of annoyance before asking, "What is it, Granger?"

"I... well," she finds that all her words are gone.

"It's his decision," Malfoy starts, clearly knowing what she wants to say, "and I have no choice but to go with it."

"B-but…"

"You can't do anything about it, Granger. I distinctly remember that you're in a completely different department."

To which Hermione finally manages to reply a coherent sentence, "I'm training to be part of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement!"

Malfoy actually smirks at this, turning his usual blank face into one of amusement. He tells her sarcastically, "Should I offer my congratulations or condolences?"

"What— oh, you're such an insufferable arse!" Hermione huffs, her cheeks flaming. She's glaring at him with her arms crossed over her chest and her usual bright face turned into a scowl.

He chuckles, a weird sound coming from someone who _never_ does that. It's deep and a bit rough with not much humor in it, but it's still a chuckle. He replies, "Well, I'm glad that you haven't forgotten that."

Before Hermione can say another word, Malfoy quickly cuts her off and bids his goodbye, "It's been nice talking to you and all, Granger, but I have somewhere else to be. Have a nice day."

He leaves Hermione frozen in her spot and obviously flabbergasted because did Malfoy just tell her to _have a nice day?_

* * *

"I'm telling you, Gin, he _did_ say that!" Hermione exclaims, with wide eyes. She's watching her best friend cook in the quite large kitchen of Grimmauld Place. Pots and pans all levitate to help Ginny Weasley with her cooking. Hermione herself has never learned to cook, and probably will never try again after the disaster last Christmas.

"And I don't doubt you, Hermione," Ginny replies as she flicks her wand firmly and without hesitation at all. She continues, "Maybe Malfoy isn't as bad now as he was when we were kids."

"It's strange, though," Hermione says with a frown. She looks back at her steaming tea and the biscuits on the side. Her appetite seems to vanish in thin air.

"Oh, would you set the table please? Ron and Susan are on their way now." Ginny reminds her, turning around to gesture to the dining room beside the kitchen, separated only by a huge wooden arch.

"Do you think Ron's serious about her?" Hermione asks as she stands up from her seat from the counter and walks to the dining room area. She raises her wand and ceremoniously waves it, causing the dinnerware to come out from their hiding place and placing themselves neatly on the huge dining table. She remembers that this is the same dining table where the Order of the Phoenix once sat and discussed their meetings. She can only be glad that that's not the case today.

"With Susan? I think so. Ron told me he's picking out a ring," Ginny replies from the kitchen. After a pause, she accuses, "You're not _jealous_ , are you?"

"Not of Susan, no." Hermione quickly clears up, "It's just that I haven't been in a relationship for so long. I find it hard to look at all the happy couples around me."

"Do you want me to set you up?" asks Ginny sneakily. "I heard that Theodore Nott is looking for someone that you fit perfectly."

" _Nott?_ " Hermione says in surprise, "You're still talking to _Nott?_ "

"Well, it's kind of hard not to, considering he's also part of the Daily Prophet."

"I don't fancy going on a date with a person who once teased me for being a Muggle-born."

"Then why are you so keen on Draco Malfoy?"

"Oh, Gin, I just _knew_ you were going to say that!"

Ginny laughs goodheartedly.

Harry walks in the kitchen just in time to see his fiancé stop her laughter. As usual, his black hair is up in a mess and his round glasses lay skewed on the bridge of his nose. A bit groggy, Hermione guesses it's because he just woke up, he greets the two ladies, "G'morning."

"It's still night," Ginny tells him. "Ron and Susan are coming so best prepare."

"I heard you mention Draco Malfoy. It was his father's trial today, you know," Harry says, stretching his arms upwards in attempt to shake his sleepiness away.

"I was there. Kingsley made me watch," says Hermione. She frowns and relays the final decision of the Wizengamot, "Lucius Malfoy was sentenced to life in Azkaban."

"Now that I didn't know," Harry muses. He sits down on the counter Hermione was previously on and grabbed one of the biscuits intended for her. "I feel sort of bad for Malfoy."

Ginny's eyes twinkle as she looks back at Hermione who comes back to the kitchen, having finished her task in the dining room. Ginny proclaims, "Oh, I bet Hermione does too."

Hermione glares at her friend before taking her place next to Harry. Before she can reply anything, Harry continues his earlier statement, "I mean, the Malfoy Manor was already seized from him and his mother is in detention."

"That seems such a harsh punishment," Hermione comments, furrowing her eyebrows together.

Harry shrugs as he takes a large bite from the biscuit. In between chews, he adds, "Still, I don't think he's too bothered by it since he's deemed as one of the best healers in St. Mungo's."

Ginny gasps with excitement, whilst Hermione gasps with surprise. The former immediately exclaims, "Malfoy is a healer?!"

Harry stares at the two strangely before nodding. "Yeah? Ever since he graduated Hogwarts. I'd thought Hermione would know this."

At the mention of her name, Hermione heats up and shakes her head furiously. During their time in Hogwarts, Hermione and Malfoy weren't exactly great friends and they certainly did not tell each other what they wanted to do after Hogwarts.

" _Well_ ," Ginny starts, grinning at Hermione all the while, "who knew Malfoy is such a respectable person?"

"Oh, hush, Gin," Hermione bites back, a blush overtaking her solid features.

* * *

 **2003 (Winter)**

"Ginny, I love you and all, but the dress you picked out for me is absolutely ridiculous!" Hermione remarks as she ruffles the ends of the dress pointlessly. The dress, a pastel pink color that Hermione just loves, is long and outrageously puffy at the end which makes it hard to move freely without knocking a drink off a table.

"Oh, but you look amazing!" Ginny giggles. She's wearing her wedding dress: a beautiful white ensemble with an illusion neckline and laced sleeves. Unlike her bridesmaids, Ginny's dress is straight, extending at the end which makes her look like a mermaid. When Hermione first saw her, she immediately cried with joy.

Hermione scowls as she runs a hand through her hair. For this special occasion, Ginny had forced Hermione to use Sleekeazy's Hair Potion to turn her bushy brown hair straight. While she's quite glad that she's able to comb her hair easily, Hermione finds herself missing her bushy hair terribly.

"The ceremony is about to start, Ginny," Luna Lovegood reminds. She's also wearing the same puffy dress Hermione has on. As usual, she's sporting a dreamy look on her face, which Hermione is glad to have remained, considering everything they went through.

"Thanks Luna." Ginny grins.

After the whole ceremony, everyone transferred to the Burrow for the reception. Much like Fleur and Bill's wedding; a huge tent is propped up right beside the house. Harry and Ginny only wanted to invite their close friends and family. There's a strict attendance in which no journalist (especially Rita Skeeter) is allowed entry.

Ron approaches her with pumpkin juice in his hand. He's wearing an expensive set of velvet green dress robes. His red hair is slicked back, making him look older than he really is. He gives her a crooked grin and remarks, "You look like you need a drink."

"I'm not getting plastered here, Ron." Hermione replies with a roll of her eyes.

"I said _one_ drink, 'Mione, not the whole bloody bar."

They talk for a while about the wedding ("Did you see the size of their cake?") and the guests ("I can't believe Great-Aunt Muriel is still kicking."), before Ron gags and undergoes a coughing fit.

"Ron? What's wrong?" Hermione asks with worried eyes as she rubs circles on the back of her best friend.

He stops coughing and points at the farthest corner of the tent. With animosity, he grunts, "What is the _ferret_ doing here?"

Hermione follows his gaze and finds Draco Malfoy at the end of it. He's drinking wine from his glass, looking disinterested at the conversation he's currently in. She notices Theodore Nott, a bit shorter than Malfoy but still just as regal and formal, beside him. Both are currently talking to the unmistakable Professor Slughorn.

"Ginny must have invited Theodore Nott." Hermione answers, knowing full well that Ginny proclaimed to her the week before that most of her co-workers said yes to the invitation.

"And the git invited the ferret?" Ron finishes, and then rolls his eyes. "Just when you thought nothing would go wrong."

"Well, they haven't done anything bad yet, have they?" Hermione says, surprising even herself that she's defending the two Slytherins. "What I mean is that we shouldn't focus too much on them."

Ron eyes her suspiciously, but is not able to voice it out as The Weird Sisters take the stage. They loudly introduce themselves before starting their opening song: a strong rock ballad dedicated to the lovely couple.

Susan Bones comes tumbling towards them, wearing a short simple cerulean blue dress which mirrors her own eyes. Beaming at her significant other, she exclaims through the loud speakers, "This is my favorite song!"

Ron lovingly gives Susan a small smile, the same smile that was once reserved for Hermione a long time ago. The couple excuse themselves to Hermione who lets them go willingly. She watches the two excitedly dance right in front of the band, along with the other fans of the band.

"Touching, isn't it, Granger?"

She turns her head to find Malfoy, dressed in his own deadly black dress robes. He looks exactly the same as when Hermione saw him in the Ministry's lift: pale, cold, and certainly just as attractive.

"Good evening, Malfoy. I didn't know you were invited here."

Malfoy shrugs, taking a sip from his wine glass. He replies after, "I'm Theo's plus one, no matter how sad that sounds. Plus, the Chosen One owes me for the countless times I healed him free of charge."

Hermione rolls her eyes, but a small smile appears on her lips. She reminds him, "St. Mungo's does not demand payment."

"Still, he should be grateful that I do not sneak dung in his potions," Malfoy replies.

"How _very_ noble of you, Malfoy," Hermione sarcastically praises him.

"Not surprising, considering who _I_ am." Malfoy boasts with mock pride, but Hermione can hear the tiniest bit of bitterness in the statement.

She looks at him with worried eyes and Malfoy over to her with blank eyes.

"No wonder you're friends with Potter," he muses. While his eyes remain blank, she can see how it softens. Instead of the cold dark grey she's used to, he surprises her by showing off such a warm bright grey. It reminds her of the skies after the rain has fallen, but the clouds have not yet cleared.

"What do you mean?" she breathes out, fascinated by the clouds in his eyes.

"You wear your heart on your sleeve," he replies with indifference. He's so indifferent about everything that it becomes unsettling to talk to him.

Still, she feels as if she doesn't want to stop talking to him. With fake confidence, she huffs out, "Do I?"

He smiles. Not a smirk, not even a smug grin. Just a simple smile to show his happiness and it causes Hermione's heart to flutter like a lost butterfly. He looks back at the guests, erasing that brief break of his character, and replies a bit more distant this time, "It's not necessarily a bad thing to have."

Hermione feels her cheeks heat. She turns away from him to hide her blush somehow.

The first song is almost over, and The Weird Sisters announces their next song they'll play, 'This Is The Night.' She watches as the some people retire from the dance floor, while twice the amount of people replaces them.

"Do you want to dance?" Malfoy asks, nudging her arm softly with his elbow.

She looks back at him with an incredulous look on her face, "With _you_?"

"No, with the hippogriff." Malfoy replies sarcastically, before sighing, "Yes, with _me_ , Granger. Unless you're too repulsed to be seen with me."

"N-no, that's not it," Hermione softly protests. Still, as she glances at his patient eyes, she eventually gives in and dances with him for a song.

That one song turns into two, three, four… Hermione does not remember, but she does remember his kind eyes and their childish banter as they swerve on the dance floor, forgetful of the world for that moment.

* * *

 **2004**

Ginny's twice as big as she was a month ago. Hermione has enough tact to not mention that fact, but apparently Ron does not.

"He's a bloody idiot!" Ginny growls as she batters the cream on the bowl harshly. Hermione knows that when Ginny has resorted to doing chores without magic, she's definitely angry. The redhead snorts, "As if _he_ isn't getting fat also! I can see his bloody gut when he's wearing a shirt!"

Hermione wants to give Ron a piece of her mind as well for leaving Ginny this emotional with Hermione all alone. Harry, as usual, is busy with his Auror duties. Being an Auror meant sacrificing Saturdays if needed to.

"Maybe Ron's just nervous that's why he took it out on you," Hermione suggests as she quietly washes the dishes. She knows that this can be finished quicker with magic, but she feels that washing the dishes by hand will be cleaner.

"Just because that bloody idiot's going to propose today, I'll let him insult me like that! He's getting g a Bat-Bogey Hex when he gets home." Ginny huffs as she finishes battering the bowl.

Hermione finishes hanging the last plate. She looks back at her small golden watch and reads the time: 9:58. She needs to get going if she wants to arrive precisely on time.

As if noticing her predicament, Ginny looks over to Hermione and remarks, "Got a date with your new boyfriend?"

Hermione's cheeks burn as she quickly denies, "He's _not_ my boyfriend!"

"You spend your Saturdays together, 'Mione. If that's not what boyfriends do, you can hex me." Ginny says, crossing her arms above her belly.

"I'm not hexing a pregnant woman, Gin."

"You don't have to because it's clear you two are dating."

"I need to go, Gin." Hermione replies instead, because they're certainly not having this conversation again. She quickly walks towards the front door. Before opening it, she shouts, "Love you!"

"Say that to Malfoy, not me!" Ginny shouts back immediately.

* * *

Hermione brightly watches the snow fall down from the heavens. She snuggles closer to her knitted gray scarf, courtesy of Molly Weasley, that's wrapped around her neck. Her bright red-and-white sweater is also knitted by Molly Weasley, albeit originally meant for Ron. She had stolen it after one of their nights in, when they were still together of course. She tried to give it back, but Ron simply laughed and said she can keep it.

She's glad that it's still hers because it's the comfiest sweater she owns.

 _Crack!_

"Oh, Granger, you're early."

Hermione looks at the person next to him. Even Draco 'the Pure-blood' Malfoy gets cold, shown in his choice of clothing. He's wearing a dark wool overcoat, buttoned up to the top which prevents anyone to see what's inside, and black trousers. Malfoy is sporting Timberlands boots on his feet. As expected, he's fashionable.

"You're late." Hermione corrects.

Malfoy grins. He seems to do that a lot lately whenever they go out. It's been sort of a tradition for them to meet each other during Saturdays. Ever since Harry and Ginny's wedding, in fact, when Malfoy asked her to accompany him to The National Gallery (his exact words: "I've been meaning to find a tour guide, Granger. Care to be one?"). Soon enough, they've spend more time with each other more than they care enough to admit.

"Where to, Granger?" he asks.

"I've been meaning to buy some more books, so…" Hermione trails off, knowing that Malfoy has already gotten the picture.

"Well, there is a bookstore around the corner."

They start to walk.

Hermione strikes up another conversation, "Ginny's been driving me mad. I honestly don't know how Harry does it."

"It's the hormones, Granger. It's better for you to keep her company than leave her alone with her wits." Malfoy replies, shoving both hands in the pocket of his overcoat.

She glances at him and asks, "You've dealt with pregnant women before?"

Malfoy grunts. "More than you, I suppose. It was part of my training."

"I still can't believe you're a healer."

"Half of the Wizarding World still can't believe you chose Magical Creatures over Law, but I suppose we all can't satisfy the expectations of others."

"I suppose not," she replies cheekily, grinning up at the man.

They turn the corner. Malfoy points at the bookstore just across the street, along the slow London traffic. Since it is a Saturday, many of the people around are strolling leisurely along the sidewalks, and the small shops on the side have never been so full. Hermione finds herself loving the atmosphere: the snow that randomly falls, the sun shining brightly but not enough to pierce through the cold winds of winter, and the merry civilians that take their time walking around the city.

They cross the street and enter the bookstore.

The bookstore is a bit small and cramped, but that's only because of the towers of books beside the bookshelves. Many of the books are second-hand, but Hermione considers those kinds of books as the best. Feeling the crisp and certainly use pages brings about a certain exhilarating feeling within her. Plus, seeing scribbles of notes along the spaces helps her understand the previous owner, despite probably never seeing them. Still, Hermione cannot deny the fact that the smell and feel of new books causes her great happiness as well.

She trots over to the Non-Fiction section, as written on the board hanging from the whitewashed ceilings.

"I can never understand why you like secondhand books." Malfoy scowls as he grabs a book with its cover torn. "With all the money you make in the Ministry, I'd figure you'd buy newer books."

"I tolerate your obsession with broken antiques." Hermione points out as she pulls out a book with an interesting title.

Malfoy doesn't reply at that.

She fishes for three more books and they weave through the towers of books before reaching the counter. The man behind the counter is pudgy and looking bored out of his mind. An uneaten donut lay beside him, having put it down after seeing the two approach the counter. He quickly inputs the books on the till before announcing, "That'll be £4.30."

Hermione grabs her small brown satchel that's swung over her shoulder and tries to reach her wallet for Muggle money. Ever since the Golden Trio's quest to find the Horcruxes, she's been obsessed with charming each of her bags for bigger space. It doesn't help that most of the bags she's bought all have such small carrying capacity.

The man on the counter and even Malfoy look at her strangely. Since she's taking too long, Malfoy quickly whisks up £5 and pays the man. In a jiffy, the man on the counter hands Malfoy the exact change as well as the four secondhand books.

Once outside, Hermione looks at him sheepishly. She says, "Sorry about that."

" _Accio_ wallet?" Malfoy offers as he gives her the books she (well, _he_ ) purchased. She simply grins sheepishly, not bothering to reply, and grabs the books, placing them in her small satchel.

"Anything else to buy?" Malfoy asks, as they walk among the shops.

"Well, I guess I need to buy Ron and Susan a present. He's proposing today," Hermione mutters, already thinking of what present to buy. She continues to monologue, "Something for their shared apartment maybe? Or maybe a simple bouquet of white roses? No, that seems too forward. What do you think?"

She looks back at Malfoy who's furrowing his eyebrows at her, a worried look on his usually blank face. His lips are pursed, and she knows exactly what he wants to say despite not opening his mouth.

"I'm all right, Malfoy. Ron and I—we've decided that we're no good for each other. It's been three years, you know. We both moved on." Hermione tells him, smiling softly at his reaction.

He coughs and looks away, a bit embarrassed at his reaction. He whispers, "Yeah."

"Thank you, Malfoy," she says.

She notices his rosy cheeks, but decides that it's probably due to the cold weather. They continue to stroll in modern day London, oblivious to the pouring snow above, to the curious glances from onlookers, and definitely to the feelings they pretend to not have.

* * *

 **quick author's note: i hate it when writers portray Ron as the stereotypical guy who cheats on Hermione. Ron's an amazing character and he definitely would never do that to one of his best friends. also, forgive me if i made Hermione and Draco a bit out of character. hopefully the next chapters will be better.**


	2. part two: Draco's

**thinking too much and realizing too little**

* * *

 **2005**

Draco Malfoy thinks Harry 'the Chosen One' Potter is one hell of a Gryffindor.

He scowls as he stares back at the same green eyes he had tormented during childhood. With complete exasperation, he asks, "Don't tell me you actually flung yourself to take a Stinging Hex head on?"

Potter sheepishly looks back at him on the hospital bed. He defends his actions, "He was about to cast it on a Muggle."

"Ever heard of a Shield Charm?" Draco blankly replies. He sighs, a memory resurfacing, "If I'm being honest, you all Gryffindors are practically alike."

"If _I'm_ being honest, Malfoy, I have a suspicion that you're referring to a certain Gryffindor," he teases, a smug grin gracing over his features. He comfortably leans back on the soft fluffy pillow, as if confident Draco will erase the pain away.

Draco knows that he can undo the Hex in his sleep, but he wants Potter to suffer first for teasing him on his growing affection for a certain bushy-haired woman.

"Since you're in a teasing mood, Potter, can I assume that you're well enough to get out of the room?" Draco growls harshly, but he cannot help the pink that spreads across his cheeks. He crosses his arms across the lime green robes that Healers are forced to wear. Thankfully, Draco's superior had allowed him to not wear the silly pointed lime green hat, as Draco feels he's already humiliated by wearing lime green—which is certainly not his color.

"Oh, come on, Malfoy. It was a joke." Potter sniggers.

"You don't look remotely affected by the hex," Malfoy comments before whispering under his breath and waving his wand at the same time to reverse the effects. Soon enough, Potter is sitting perfectly upright, looking more comfortable than when he came in the room earlier.

"I have a high tolerance for pain," Potter explains as he stretches his arms. "Plus, seeing you bluster over the mention of Hermione is enough to make me laugh."

"Shut up," Draco grunts, a bit less harshly since he's too busy doing exactly what Potter had said. With a glare, he commands, "You're cured. Get out, Potter."

"Wait, wait," Potter continues to chuckle, clearly having the time of his life seeing Draco looking so mushy whenever he thinks about the girl he fancies. Draco cannot deny himself that he's absolutely completely whipped for Hermione Granger. He continues, "Ginny wants to invite you to James' birthday party. He's turning one this weekend."

"Do I have to bring a gift?" Draco scowls, not liking the mischievous glint on his former enemy's eyes.

"Sure. A kiss for Hermione."

Draco does not regret blasting the damned man out of the room, even if it meant that he'd have to heal Potter again and that his superior would punish him by making him clean the dirty cauldrons.

* * *

Draco, as per his usual routine, takes the lift to the fourth floor. He's tugging on the sleeves of his robes in an effort to keep his nerves away. No matter how many times he's done this, he can never quite keep his emotions down. Too many things have happened for him to become completely numb, no matter how much he wants to be.

He stares at the panel right above the lift doors where a clock-like contraption lays. It's numbered one to five with an arrow that resembles a clock hand points to which floor the passengers are at. It's currently on three, pausing there as the lift door opens. There, a number of Healers with similar clothes as him walk inside.

The doors close and they go up.

Draco takes a shaky breath before walking out of the lift. He hates being nervous; he's usually calm and precise. Any unnecessary emotions brought about horrible conclusions; he of all people should know that. He thinks of the Golden Trio whose emotions and instincts dictated their actions which cost them their dear loved ones. Draco learned from Lucius that logic and intelligence preceded all.

He shakes his past away. He chooses to focus on the cobblestone floors and the whirl of lime green robes that pass his way. Finally, he faces the reason for his nerves: the Janus Thickey Ward. The ward itself is separated from the hallway by a huge stone arch. As he goes inside, he notes how the stone changes into grey concrete and how the walls turn into a pastel blue. Atlanta Kelsie, the current Healer-in-Charge of the ward, admitted during one of their shifts that the color helped the patients relax.

After passing by his former professor, Gilderoy Lockhart, as well as an unnamed woman who keeps on insisting that she was the Queen of England, he arrives at the last row of beds.

He gulps as he sees Augusta Longbottom, looking as stern as ever, wearing a fur coat and a dark green pointed hat on top of her gray hair. The old woman glances at him, her brown eyes briefly piercing through Draco's own grey ones.

"Good morning, Mrs. Longbottom," Draco greets. His whole mouth feels dry.

"Mr. Malfoy," she greets back coldly. Draco has found that he does not mind when people glance over him as if he's a house-elf that wasn't wanted there. He has done that many times to people for him to think that he deserves it.

He shifts his gaze over to the ones laying on the hospital beds. The one nearer to Draco and Mrs. Longbottom is a man with glossy brown eyes, watching the ceiling with great interest. His once dark hair has turned gray in a matter of years, presumably from old age. Next to him is a woman with the same glossy brown eyes who's too focused on chewing something. Her hair is white, a feat due to the number of torture she's endured. She must have been beautiful once, Draco thinks as he notes her doe-like eyes and chubby cheeks, but is now a mess with wrinkles and chapped lips. They were once the great Aurors: Frank and Alice Longbottom.

But to Draco, they mean so much more.

Draco doesn't bother to tell Mrs. Longbottom what he's about to do, knowing that she's fully aware of all the procedures. He walks over to the space between the two beds carefully, as if afraid that the two patients will get worse. He shakily flicks his wand and produces a small notepad just the size of his hand along with a quill. He casts another charm so that the notebook and quill will levitate and take note everything that he wants them to take note. Unwilling to look at Mrs. Longbottom for the duration of the procedure, he immediately hovers his wand over to Frank Longbottom and begins the check-up.

 _Vitals are okay… heartbeat is normal…_ Draco lists off mentally.

His thoughts stop when a certain hand grabs his robes.

He feels Mrs. Longbottom's withering glare and his own blood running cold in his veins. He looks down and finds Frank Longbottom tugging on his robes. For a moment, however, an image of a mad woman much like his aunt replaces Frank Longbottom's face. Draco clears his throat, willing that horrible thought away, before gently removing his grip. He whispers, much like the other times, "It will be fine Mr. Longbottom. It won't hurt a bit."

Many of the Healers assigned to this task also underwent the same experience. Apparently, Frank Longbottom is fond of the bright colored robes. Still, Draco feels heavy whenever the patient does this, even more so when Augusta Longbottom or Neville Longbottom watch with wary eyes.

"I always wonder if he can sense that bloody witch in you," Mrs. Longbottom speaks, her voice as heavy as his heart and as stern as a mother should be.

Draco declines to comment and raises his wand to focus on the patient's blood pressure instead. He also ignores the sharp pain that suddenly appears on his inner left arm.

"Tell me, boy," the old woman says sharply, "do you work here for _them_?"

Finally, he looks up and meets her hard gaze. He's received many gazes like that, but it seems more impactful when she does it. He feels metal in his mouth before replying, "There are many reasons why I work here that I'd like to keep personal, Mrs. Longbottom. But I can tell you certainly that I want to _help_ patients and not endanger them."

Mrs. Longbottom sighs. She looks back at her son and softly whispers, "I've always believed that Neville would turn out just like his parents. Sometimes the offspring just doesn't match the origin."

Draco nods. He continues with his work and she continues on watching. Only this time, the air is much lighter and he feels that he can walk inside the room without tugging on his own sleeves.

* * *

 **2005 (that same weekend)**

"You look nervous." Hermione decides after staring at him for a few minutes. Her hair, as usual, is disheveled, as if she can't be bothered to comb it thoroughly after stepping out of the shower. Still, Draco finds it adorable when one of the strands hastily tucked behind her ear falls over her face. He finds it even more adorable when her face turns into all kinds of red when he tucks the fallen strand back for her.

"That's because I am," Draco replies. He doesn't know when exactly he's stopped using Occlumency around her, but at one point he did and now she's able to read him like one of her favorite books. He finds it a bit frightening that Hermione can use Legilimency (albeit weakly) despite not attempting to learn about it at all.

"It's just a birthday party," she attempts to comfort him. Her brown eyes, which have always reminded Draco of hot chocolate on a chilly winter day, gaze up to him.

"How would you feel if you accompanied me to the Leaky Cauldron to meet with Blaise, Theo, and Pansy?" Draco asks, watching her carefully.

"Well…" she trails off, looking down on the sidewalk.

"Exactly," he finishes. His grip tightens around the paper bag he's currently carrying and exhales heavily. "Still, I promised Potter that I'd show up."

"You and Harry seem to be getting along nicely," Hermione points out, smiling softly. Her lips are small but thick, smooth and the color of an apricot. Draco often wonders if it also tastes like one.

"No, we are _not_." Draco growls, but even he knows that the constant meetings in St. Mungo's have made the two former enemies. He pulls on the green tie inside his loose gray sweater, as an attempt to ignore her knowing eyes.

"It won't be all bad. I'll be there." Hermione says instead, wrapping her arm around his.

 _God, I wish you were with me forever_ , Draco thinks to himself as he feels her warm body against his. They've been in this friendship for months now, and with every day that passes only cements the idea that Draco is falling irrevocably and undeniably for Hermione Granger.

"All the Weasleys must be there surely," Draco sighs, "Did you know that they kept glaring at me back during their wedding?"

Hermione gives him a grin and says, "I told them that you're much different now."

Draco rolls his eyes as he replies sarcastically, "Yes, of course. Once you told them that, their entire belief system _just_ changed."

" _Draco_ ," she warns. He's not sure when they started calling each other by their first names, but he loves every single moment of it. The way his name rolls of her tongue, the way her warm eyes light up mischievously as if enjoying how the act completely unravels him, the two syllables that shouldn't probably stir his heart but does anyway—everything about that makes him shudder with anticipation.

"I'll try to be nice," he mumbles, looking away once his eyes land on her soft delectable lips. He wants to strangle himself. Hermione Granger is an absolute attractive beast when angry and that alone is a new form of torture on his dear heart.

"I know you will," Hermione says, "Now, can we go inside?"

They've been on the sidewalk for a long time, Draco realizes. Hermione leads him inside and Draco starts to tug on his sleeves absentmindedly. She feels this and, without hesitation at all, lowers her hand and interlocks it with his. His ears burn as he looks at her questioningly.

He's not able to comment because they've landed themselves in the living room and Ginny Weasley's coming up to them.

"Hermione!" the smaller redhead beams as she hugs her friend. She gives a cheeky grin at Draco and greets him as well, "Hey, Malfoy."

Draco nods and the two women start talking. He takes this time to look around the room. The living room itself is long, but a bit narrow. The walls are wooden and the floors are carpeted red with golden intricate drawings etched on it. A small stone fireplace is found at the end of the room where there are two brown couches that are facing each other. There are two large windows on the walls opposite of Draco with heavy dark curtains. A large wooden black cupboard lay between the two windows. In front of the cupboard is a grand piano and beside that piano is a buffet table with all kinds of desserts and snacks. There are lots of people scattered all around the living room, with some on the couches, others picking out food, others standing on the sides, and one sitting on the grand piano. Almost all of them have a drink on their hands, carrying a conversation with their neighbors, and some other guests are staring at them and it causes Draco to look down.

"Harry's upstairs with James. We're about to start so you should really seat yourselves. Oh, and Hermione, did you invite Kingsley? I think Harry forgot," the Weaslette says fast.

"Harry _did_ invite him, Ginny, but is probably busy with the Ministry. More importantly, _we_ got a present for James," Hermione replies with equal fastness. She nudges Draco and, with a soft groan, he gives the Weaslette the paper bag he's been holding the whole time.

The Weaslette's dark eyes widen with surprise. She takes the bag and says in amazement, "Wow, thank you. You didn't really have to bother, though."

"Potter told me to bring something," Draco replies with a shrug.

The Weaslette's eyes twinkle with amusement. She underhandedly comments, "Really? I distinctly remember that Harry asked for a _particular_ gift."

"Do you and Potter tell each other everything?" Draco scowls, his cheeks reddening badly.

The redhead grins, like a child about to do something that will make their parents angry. It makes Draco feel uncomfortable and even tenser than before. Her brown eyes flicker, a shade of dark brown that mirrors the very walls of the living room, before suggesting, "You should take Malfoy to see Teddy. They're cousins after all."

"I've been meaning to," Hermione replies, smiling with delight. As Draco sees that smile, he immediately knows that he'll agree to whatever she wants even if he truly doesn't want to.

"Teddy?" Draco echoes, trying to remember where he heard that name before.

"I told you about him yesterday when we were getting the gift," Hermione explains, but Draco feels that he's heard of the name way before Hermione casually dropped it in the lobby of a children store.

Another person comes bustling towards them and Draco almost scowls when he realizes it's Ronald Weasley, complete with his messy red hair and a collared dress shirt with a few wrinkles here and there. The Weasel looks at Draco pointedly but greets them anyways, "Hey, 'Mione… Malfoy."

"Hello, Ron. Where's Susan?" Hermione asks, reaching over to his best friend to give him a proper hug with both her arms around his neck. This action causes her to let go of Draco's hand, something which causes the blonde to frown.

"Still at work. She said that she'll drop by later," Weasley replies, wrapping his arms around Hermione softly. A second later, she's back at Draco's side (where she should be, Draco wryly thinks) and Weasley's arm is around his sister's shoulder casually. He suggests to the newcomers, waggling his eyebrows, "You should really eat. Plus, everyone's giddy about your new position at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and how you're guaranteed to be the next Minister."

Hermione's cheeks redden as she sputters out, "Oh, that's just rubbish, Ron! I'm too inexperienced to be the Minister!

"Yeah, yeah," Weasley says dismissively. "Anyway, we'll leave you two be for now. Mum's looking for Gin and I was having a fine conversation with Charlie. I reckon he already found a lady during his expedition in Norway."

"Right," Hermione replies. "Thank you."

The two dissolve into the crowd, but not before the Weasley girl looks at Hermione and gestures that, "Teddy is upstairs!" Draco looks over to Hermione who's already looking back at him. He offers, "Food first and get swamped with all the guests itching to hear from you or do we visit this Teddy boy?"

"Teddy first and don't call him that," Hermione answers.

Draco sighs and gives her a shrug. "Whatever you say."

With that said, Hermione leads him upstairs to a narrow hallway with the same heavy curtains and old red carpet from the living room. The hallway feels never ending and so does the pit in his stomach when a certain horrid thought enters his head. He's certain that he _knows_ this smell, this tension in the air, and the dryness and wariness of it all when Hermione casually walks in. He knows this because it's exactly what he feels whenever he's at the Malfoy Manor.

Draco clears his throat, catching the attention of Hermione. He asks, "Who did you say this house belonged to?"

She gives him a raised eyebrow and says, "It belongs to Harry. His godfather gave it to him after he died."

"Who's his godfather?"

"Sirius Black."

"The lunatic from Azkaban? Didn't he infiltrate Hogwarts to kill Potter?"

Hermione pauses for a while, probably thinking whether or not to confess Draco the real truth. Draco knows that the adventures the Golden Trio have always been between the three of them and that Hermione, no matter what, will always be loyal as far as her Gryffindor blood will allow her to. Slytherins like Draco, of course, have different standards of loyalty.

Draco hastily says, "It's fine if you don't want to tell."

"I-I'm sorry," Hermione apologizes shyly, "it's not my story to tell."

"I understand." But Draco doesn't truly understand. He knows that there are secrets that people must keep to themselves (the tattoo on his left arm never ceases to remind him of that) and that there are people whose pasts they never want seen, but he also cannot understand why they insist it's not their 'story to tell.' If they do not want to talk about it, why would they imply that he should ask someone else?

He's glossing over the important part of course. Sirius Black is a very familiar name. He would know because it's part of the family tree that Narcissa Malfoy once had before it was burned to the ground during The War. Still, he does not bring that up nor does he want to know more about how Potter had a Black as a godfather.

Hermione leads him to the fifth door on the left (offhandedly telling Draco that it's Teddy's favorite room), and Draco's frozen at what he sees.

Inside the room there's not much furniture, but Draco supposes it's because the walls are the ones meant to be seen. The walls are dark green, but painted over it are people's names coating over the four walls like branches from a tree. As he goes inside, he sees so many different names scrawled with absolute carefulness, with some black holes on the wall as if blasted with malicious intent. He gulps as he looks at the names: Phineas Nigellus Black, Pollux Black, Belvina Black…

"Aunt 'Mione!" he hears someone exclaim.

He glances at the other two people in the room: a young boy barely reaching Hermione's waist with bright flaming red hair like all the Weasleys and an even brighter smile on his face. He's chubby and a few of his front teeth are missing, but his glowing brown eyes make him absolutely adorable. The other person is a rather tall woman with graying hair but still largely brown and wrinkles all over her face. Her back is hunched and her wide brown eyes pierce Draco's own gray ones, as if trying to see what his soul looks like. She looks familiar: her nose is plump, her jaw quite large, and her lips just as wide and red as…Aunt Bellatrix's.

"You're…Andromeda Tonks, right?" Draco asks hesitantly.

"Yes," she replies, still smiling so softly. "And you must be Narcissa's child."

"Yeah, I…" Draco swallows a ton. "…I heard lots of stories about you."

"All bad things, I suppose," Andromeda chuckles, "Bella and Cissy cursed me when they found out about Ted."

"No!" Draco interjects immediately. Blushing, he corrects, "Mum used to tell me stories about the three of you during childhood. Before anything bad had happened."

Andromeda looks at him kindly, and it's absolutely chilling because all Draco sees is his Aunt Bellatrix about to scold him for not properly training. But he blinks and he reminds himself that it is Andromeda, a warmer and softer person than Aunt Bellatrix would ever be.

"That's Teddy," Andromeda gestures to the other two inside the room. Teddy's already in Hermione's arms with the latter struggling to hold him. Still, she's looking back and forth at Draco and Andromeda, obviously wanting to step in just in case. The older woman continues, "He's my grandson. Dora had him before she died during The War."

"So, you're taking care of him?"

"Yes. Occasionally, Harry and Molly's children come to visit him. He's Harry Potter's godson after all."

Draco's eyes soften as he looks at the boy, chatting idly at Hermione with wide eyes. In another life, this child would have been part of the Blacks and he probably would have had the same values as the purebloods once held. He looks back at his aunt and says, "You're very brave. I'm sorry if I hadn't thought of you like that back then."

To his surprise, she merely laughs it off, "I'm sure Bella had a lot of interesting words to describe me. But I'm not brave at all."

Draco struggles with this because he's been trying to get rid of the bloody rules imprinted on his left arm these past few years. He hates it that Andromeda had the guts to leave the imposing mindset they have and follow what she truly believes, whilst Draco never once considered that in his whole life. He hates how sheltered he is—how he's understandably just a spoiled brat who's too scared to actually take control of his own life.

His left arm starts to burn badly and that's when he knows he has to leave.

"Are you all right, Draco?" Hermione asks, already immediately at his side. She's looking up at him with worried eyes, like the ones during Potter's wedding. The same look which made Draco prompt that she's absolutely easy to read.

"Yeah," Draco breathes, even though he's far from that. "I'm fine."

"Aunt 'Mione, who is he?" a small voice speaks up. It's high-pitched and childish, much like any young boy before puberty would sound like.

He's staring at Teddy now as he tries his best to calm down. With a forced smile, he replies, "My name's Draco Malfoy."

"He's a cousin of yours, Teddy," Hermione adds, crouching so she can face the boy eye-to-eye.

"Really?!" the boy beams. "I have a cousin?!"

Andromeda laughs softly at her grandson's antics. She gestures everyone to come closer to her, and they all do. She points at the lowest part of the tree, right below the names of Narcissa Black and Lucius Malfoy, and there is his name: Draco Malfoy. She explains, "He's my sister's son."

"That's so cool! You're the last living one here!" Teddy points out.

That's when Draco's throat constricts and his heart turns into stone. He's staring at his name on the wall with such heat that one would believe he wants to erase that name. But he knows that there's a spell on the wall that prevents random wizards from doing that. The words echo in his mind: _last living one_. He knows that, deep in his heart, he's the last of the Malfoys and the Blacks. Two of the Sacred Twenty-Eight are running inside his veins right now. He's vaguely aware of the true power he holds, of what being alive means for him, of how everything can just crash and burn for the two pureblood families. He knows all these and that's why he's stuck to his spot, his skin paling every second, beads of cold sweat dripping on the wooden floor, eyes so gray and cold like the London weather, and hands clammy with tension.

He takes a breath.

"Draco?" Hermione asks tentatively.

"I need to go." Draco whispers, looking at her but not completely seeing her.

"What? Draco, what's wrong?" she asks again, this time with furrowed eyebrows.

"I just…" Draco pauses. A beat passes and time gets even slower still. He looks over to the two Tonks and bids his goodbye, "It was nice meeting you two."

"Draco!" Hermione exclaims. She's raising her voice now and Draco's more agitated now, but he can't—refuses—to look at Hermione's eyes. He doesn't want to look at anyone's eyes right now.

"I'm sorry," he hears himself saying. But how? No matter, he decides, he just really needs to leave. Maybe he'll explain it to Hermione (fat chance; he can never tell her about this much like she cannot tell him about Sirius Black) or maybe she'll force him to (and Draco will fold and clam up and be distant enough for her to stop), but his heart is hammering against his poor chest and he knows that he won't be able to face her for the next few days.

He's running down the stairs. Everything's a blur around him and he wishes time would stop but it doesn't so he keeps running.

"Malfoy? What are you—?"

He ignores the person, whoever he is. He goes straight towards the door, opens it and apparates with a resounding _crack_.

* * *

"You just ran out there?" Theo asks with disbelief.

They're at a Muggle bar with dim lights and even dimmer faces all around. They're by the wooden bar, sitting on high stools and choosing to face the busy bartenders. Behind them are the rest of the tables, all filled with animated faces of Muggles, ignoring the only people in the counter which is what the three Slytherins have always wanted. Getting a drink in the Leaky Cauldron nowadays caused a scandal.

Draco's sighing loudly, still sporting the same outfit he wore earlier that night. Now, however, he's thrown away the tie and popped the first three buttons. His eyes are getting hazier with each shot he pours down his throat, but he convinces himself that he's still sober. He replies, "Yeah. I—I panicked."

Blaise Zabini gives Draco a worrying look from his left. As an adult, Blaise has decided to style his dark hair in a traditional military buzz cut. He's grown to be more handsome with twinkling long, slanting eyes and high cheekbones. His lips are wide and thick, and his nose with a bump on the bridge. His skin is like chocolate; smooth and dark, certainly adding to his attractiveness. Much like during their Hogwarts years, Blaise is considered attractive to both witches and Muggles alike. The only difference, as far as Draco can tell, is that Blaise's definitely gentler and more understanding in a way. Blaise, in his natural sultry and deep voice, comments, "You were doing so well even. Three months without a panic attack."

Theodore Nott nods at Draco's right side. His black hair is short and stingy, in a perfectly clean cut expected from the heir of a pureblood. His brown eyes flicker with understanding, and he gives a half-smile from his thin lips. He's taller and definitely lankier than the other two with long arms and thin limbs. Although his looks are not on par as the other two, he has caught attention with his strong jaw line and his sharp nose. Theo says, his deep rough voice ringing in Draco's ears, "You're doing great, mate. It's understandable why you freaked out."

"Hermione doesn't understand, though. I never told her about this." Draco admits, grabbing a fistful of his hair in sorrow.

"Well, maybe it's time you tell her," Blaise suggests. "I mean, you've been friends for over a year now. She deserves an explanation for your sudden actions."

Draco finishes his scotch on the rocks with a large gulp. He gestures at the bartender for a refill. Theo rolls his eyes at this and tells his friend, "After that drink, you'll be absolutely pissed, mate."

The blonde scowls. "I can handle my liquor."

Blaise sighs as the bartender comes around to serve another glass. He reaches for the scotch and places it far from Draco. He chides him, "Draco, you've had enough."

With flushed cheeks, Draco growls at the two, "Bunch of wet sticks."

"Sticks in the mud, you mean?" Theo muses, "You still need to improve your Muggle lingo."

"Ah, bugger off," Draco mutters back.

Blaise drinks the scotch in his hands carefully. His face crumples, probably due to the bitterness of the drink. He has never been excited for liquor unlike his other two mates. Meeting in bars and clubs has always been their idea, whereas Blaise prefers quaint coffee houses and cafés. He places the glass on the table as he smacks his lips together in order to keep the taste away.

"You should have given that to me." Draco huffs.

Theo seems to disagree with the idea. He says indignantly, " _Please_. We're not leaving you alone after last time when you unwrapped at least forty Chocolate Frogs and let them loose in your flat. You really need to see a shrink, mate."

"They won't bloody help. Plus, it's not that frequent anymore," Draco tells the two.

"You were with Hermione last time, right?" Blaise asks, leaning over to Draco as well as sharing a look with Theo. Draco thinks that the three of them are now vastly different, and he can never see the children in their eyes whenever they share looks.

"Yes," Draco gives in. He props his hand on the counter and lets his head rest on the back of his hand. He repeats much like three months ago when he had panicked and asked for solace from his friends, "I saw the word etched on her arm. It's just _there_."

Theo softly says, "You're going to have nightmares again."

Draco knows he will. He'll probably spend the night trashing up his own flat or drinking coffee or trying to get rid of that tattoo on his left arm by any means possible, but he knows that he'll still hear in the background the pained screams of torture he used to listen to back at the Manor, back when everything in his life was just black. He'll probably empty his liquor cabinet or maybe let the radio play just so he could focus on any other sound but that. And, of course, Draco will probably be haggard the morning after as he carries another shift, thankful that he will be busy enough to think about the nightmares. This will go on for a week (or until he sees Hermione and everything is all right with the world again) before he can lay in bed without help from a sleeping potion (in the worst case, the Draught of the Living Death) and continue on with his life like nothing ever happened.

"You need to tell her, Draco." Blaise insists, frowning at Draco's prolonged silence. The darker man sighs before explaining, "You obviously like each other and you don't panic a lot when you're with her (save for that one time). You're calm and sane around her, and anyone can tell that you're happier."

"Also," Theo butts in, "if you keep hiding this from her, she's bound to hurt. Ginny has said enough to me that I can understand that she's trying her best to understand you, even if you're being such an arse by blowing her off whenever she brings it up. You can't keep pushing her away, Draco, or else she'll really leave."

Draco is sober enough to fathom what they're saying because he thought about it himself.

He had thought about telling her during their impromptu trip to Scotland where their proximity was close enough for him to see every freckle and count her eyelashes as she talked about how her new seat at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement allowed her to vanquish the very concept of blood purity. The way her brown eyes lit up with passion, brightening even more so because of the glare of the sun, made him breathless. It was a moment of weakness; he had brought up his Aunt Bellatrix and she flinched and he became a coward. He's scared of her reaction if he tells her, scared if she'll react negatively and leave him.

Never seeing her again scares him more than he cares to admit.

"I can't," Draco mutters, shocking the other two, "she won't get it."

"What are you talking about?" Blaise blurts out at the same time Theo exclaims, "It's Hermione bloody Granger! She understands _everything_!"

Draco is also drunk enough to wiggle out of his seat, ignore the cries of his two (best) friends, run out of the bar inconspicuously, and apparate back to his flat with a desperate _crack_ , his left arm strangely numb and his heart heavier with each passing step.

* * *

 **quick author's note: updated after more than a week. thanks for the review and also to those who're following this story. anyway, i'm kind of satisfied with this one. i hope i was able to relay the problems Draco have in his mind. i'll try to update the last chapter faster.**


	3. part three: Both

**i suffer when i'm not with you**

* * *

 **2005**

* * *

 **One and Half a Week After**

Hermione, for the past weeks until now, is in absolute shambles.

Paperwork for her nowadays seems like a chore, she is not able to focus on the books she's skimming under her nose, and even spells that should be easy for her has started to become hard to cast. Even so, she prefers diving head in to her work, refusing to come up besides talking to a concerned Harry, her indifferent new assistant, and the Minister. Kingsley, today, started to show cracks from his usual cool façade and ordered Hermione to go home directly. He stated that, and Hermione remembers this thoroughly, 'you're working too much and you've become a mess.'

If she is a mess outside, then her insides are probably downright horrendous.

She grabs another fiction book from the shelves and skims the synopsis at the back. Hermione does not know when she first started to expand her library to include fiction books, but it's all she's been reading nowadays. While she likes all kinds of books, her go-to genre is, of course, non-fiction where logic and facts are abundant. Fiction has an abundance of feelings, something which she's not sure she has as well.

"Hermione Granger?"

She cocks her head to the side, looking at the man who called her. He's really tall, easily towering over her. He's wearing an oversized shirt, which only shows off how lanky and thin he is. His brown eyes stare back at her and that's when Hermione realizes she also knows this person. This person is… "Theodore Nott?"

"Yeah, I—good evening, I suppose," he stutters. Surprise is etched on his face, Hermione can understand that, but something else is also there: guilt, she thinks. Frowning, she wonders briefly why Theo has such a look on his face. Maybe he's been stalking her? But that seems unlikely.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asks, regretting immediately when it came out as repulsed. She apologizes quickly at her reaction.

Theo gives her a small grin. He replies, "Draco told me to pick up a book he's been meaning to read. I obliged only because he looks as overworked as a house-elf."

Hermione glares at the mention of the house-elf and Theo immediately averts his eyes after muttering a quick apology.

"Well," she starts, genuinely curious because this is the first news she heard about Draco for weeks, "what was the book?"

"I think it's Darkness Within? Merlin, Draco loves such morbid titles nowadays…" Theo trails off as he looks at the mass of books on the shelves, carefully trying to asses each of the titles.

"Um, Theo," Hermione speaks up. She offers the hardbound book in her hands with a soft smile and says, "Maybe this is the one you're looking for?"

"Oh, yeah! Thanks, mate, I'll just—" he pauses for a minute. Wide eyes stare down at Hermione with such a fervent emotion that it makes her uncomfortable just looking at him. His face suddenly and finally breaks into a grin as he asks, "Would you be kind enough and bring the book to Draco?"

"W-what?" she stutters. Her heart flutters at the prospect of seeing the platinum blonde man again, but her mind immediately crushes all those thoughts. What did she care about Draco who simply disappeared in her life? _He_ should be the one begging to meet her.

"Well, _see_ , I have to rush to The Daily Prophet! We're actually in the middle of writing a story and I was just visiting Draco and all since he was… in the neighborhood?" Theo didn't sound like he was sure of the last part. Hermione's giving him an unimpressed look but he's determined to keep the lie, "Yes, and I really have to get back now since it's been—15 minutes since I left! So, would you _please_ do me this teeny tiny solid?"

"Theo, do you really—?" Hermione's words are drowned out as Theo takes her by the wrist and leads her to the till.

Theo pretends to ignore Hermione's protests as he pays for the hardbound book she's holding. His eyes have such a mysterious and scary glint in them that it reminds Hermione that she's dealing with a Slytherin. From her experiences, Slytherins are cunning to the bone and they always get what they want. Hermione, as much as possible, tries not to judge others, but she cannot help but feel wary as Theo continues the transaction whilst blatantly ignoring her.

"So, here it is, mate," Theo says as he hands her the book. He is still sporting the same mischievous eyes and the cunning smirk that all Slytherins are famous for. "I expect that you'd be able to deliver it to him in great condition."

"Theo, I don't—"

"—know the way to his flat?" Theo interrupts. "Well, I'll be glad to help you apparate there. It's _no_ problem at all."

He soon grabs her by the shoulders and does the Side-Along Apparition that Hermione has never been quite used to. The world is dizzy for a moment and then she drops in front of a gray door with the number 15 on it. She looks around the empty hallway quizzically, trying to pinpoint if she knows this place from memory but no such familiarity compels in her.

"So, here it is. Thanks so much, Granger, I really do owe you," Theo hastily says and, with a last grin, he bids his goodbye with much enthusiasm, "Cheers!"

He disappears again, leaving Hermione confused.

She sighs as she eyes the package in her hands. It's a dark book with detailed gray monsters on the cover and the light colored title: Darkness Within. _Draco loves such morbid titles nowadays_ , Theo had said. It's true, Hermione realizes, Draco has never been much of a fun of horrific looking books. He preferred classical ones like _Pride and Prejudice_ or _The Handmaid's Tale_. He also had admitted to her in the past that he never got around reading newly published books like the one she's currently holding onto.

Groaning, because she knows she's stupid enough to do this, she braces herself and raps on the gray wooden door.

The door cracks open wide, showing Draco looking a bit pissed off. He's still the same, except now his platinum blonde hair is in a mess and there are obvious bags under his eyes. His very own grey eyes look even more aggressive than they were back in Hogwarts. As soon as his eyes land on Hermione, his aggression changes into surprise and then softness.

"Hermione?" he whispers, eyebrows knotted together.

She holds up the book Theo gave her and gives a small hesitant smile.

"Oh, uh…" Draco trails off, staring at her as if he cannot believe she exists. He clears his throat and says, "Do you want to come in?"

Hermione obliges. As she walks in his flat, she notices how dark everything is. She assumes it's because of the heavy dark curtains covering the windows and how dim the lighting is. The walls are pale teal, and the floor a dark gray carpet. Everything looks so organized, and nothing looks out of place. It also seems empty. Hermione cannot imagine a more perfect flat for Draco.

"So," she prompts, turning to look at the man her heart's been wailing for all these weeks. "Theo asked me to bring the book to you."

Draco has already closed the door and is now tugging on his sleeves. He's nervous and it makes Hermione glad because she's nervous as well. He cracks a smile (finally) and offers, "Do you fancy a spot of tea?"

"Definitely," she replies.

They go over to his kitchen, a wide space to their right. The walls are also a pale teal, but the flooring changes into white tiles. Draco turns on the light and she's amazed at the quality of white marble on his counters and on the kitchen island. Rows of wooden cabinets lay in front of them, ending with a large gray refrigerator. The counters have nothing on them, except for the sink, a microwave and the stove, not even a tiny speck of dust or a random can of sardines.

She sits down in the wooden stool beside the kitchen island, resting the book beside her. She comments with amazement, "This _exactly_ fits your style."

Draco fishes a kettle out of one of the overhead wooden cabinets and fills it up with water. He asks with his back in front of her, "What do you mean?"

"Your entire flat fits your personality," she explains, staring at his broad back. She wonders what it would feel to hug it from behind.

"I'm sure yours does too," he replies. He's now placing the kettle onto the burning stove. "Probably filled with books that you don't bother organizing."

Hermione's cheeks burn at the truth.

He turns to look at her, amusement spreading on his features. Draco's grin tells her that she's caught. Nothing can be hidden from Draco when it comes to Hermione. Their strange friendship had evolved into something that she's sure she can never have with someone else.

Draco sighs and leans against the other side of the kitchen island, right opposite of her. He says, "I'm sure you have some questions."

"I always have a lot of questions."

"About me, I meant."

Hermione pauses and they linger in the silence for a moment, simply staring and wondering what the other person would do. The kettle steams noisily in the background, watching over the two with intent ears. After being known for her strong opinions and smart aleck, Hermione for the first time is speechless. She thinks she's over thinking too much, but the minutes pass by too quickly for her to not panic.

Draco tentatively covers her hand with his. He grips it tightly before saying, "I'll come clean now. I should have said this before, Hermione. I should have been honest with you. I… I frequently have panic attacks.

"It started after The War, maybe even during it. Sometimes my vision became dimmer and other times I felt like I was choking on something. Everyone was looking at me, expecting me to mess up and become like the rest of the… Death…" Draco cannot bring himself to say their name out loud.

"Death Eaters?" Hermione whispers.

He glances sadly at her, like a puppy left on the side of the street. "I started to get anxious. When my father was taken away I was devastated. When he announced that he was _willing_ to rot in Azkaban—" he pauses as he knots his eyebrows even more, "I was about to lose it.

"Then you spoke to me after the trial and I… it was gone. I was _fine_."

Hermione remembers that. Right after the trial, she had run up to him. Back then, she felt as if she had to comfort him; there was a voice that urged her to say something, _anything_.

"When we're together, I feel okay. It's strange how you keep affecting me in more ways than one," he admits. He's staring at her now, gray colliding against brown. Cold against warm; death against life.

Her cheeks redden and her lips separating in surprise.

"Back at the birthday party, Teddy said something." Draco starts, unsure how to finish the sentence. She can tell from the hesitance swimming in his eyes.

Hermione's brain reels back to what happened that night. She guesses, "Teddy said you were the last living survivor of the family, right?"

"Yeah, I…" Draco lowers his eyes. "I'm the last in the line of both the Blacks and the Malfoys."

"It's nothing to worry about, Draco," Hermione softly says, intertwining her fingers with his. "You're different than them. You prove that just by existing like this every day."

The way his eyes break pains her. "You don't understand, Hermione. If I die, two of the pureblood families disappear forever."

She freezes. He doesn't. Instead, he finds courage to look up into her eyes again.

The kettle whistles for a moment in the background, begging for their attention. But the two have gone deaf in their ears and seem to be lost in each other. Hermione, finally, gets off the stool and goes around the island. In a flash, she's wrapping her arms around Draco's body and stuffing her face right on top of his chest. He smells like the forest; the soft leaves, the fresh wind, and the woody smell from the trees.

"Draco, _please_ ," Hermione chokes out and she suddenly realizes that she's sobbing badly on top of him. "Don't ever think that. It's not your fault; _never_ your fault."

Draco hesitantly hugs her back, but he does and he's burying his face in her bushy hair. He breathes out gently near her ear, "…okay."

"I can't lose you," she shakily admits.

He doesn't reply, but chooses to hold her tighter instead.

Hermione stays over for the night, unable to leave him. She doesn't leave his side, and he doesn't leave hers, so they stay over in his king-sized bed, nuzzling against each other in the middle of it all. Their bodies are pressed against each other, his arms wrapped around her waist, and her arms against his chest. They are facing each other, face-to-face, soft eyes linked at each other, finding home in between them.

Before falling asleep, she whispers against his wandering eyes, "I love you."

He whispers it back with more passion than she'd ever dreamed of and Hermione feels as if she's fallen in love with him even more.

* * *

 **The Morning After**

Draco opens his eyes to Hermione's peaceful face.

They're still in their position the night before. He can see every freckle in her cheeks, her long eyelashes, her rather dry lips, and every crease in her forehead. He finds himself smiling, peaceful for the first time in many days.

She opens her eyes and shows off the universes in them. Draco has always found them interesting, filled with wisdom and incredible maturity which he used to think was wasted on her two best friends. Her eyes are a dark brown shade that reminds Draco of the unearthed garden back in the Manor. She smiles at him, her pinkish lips tempting him, before asking, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he instantly says and he finds himself confident that it's true. For the first time, it seems like he's woken up to a perfect day, without any flaws to worry about.

"Really?" Hermione grins. When Draco shakes his head, she stretches up her arms. The action causes her loose sleeves go down to her elbow which shows off the very tattoo that reminds him of his hateful self. Etched on her left inner arm is the word: MUDBLOOD.

He finds himself breathing hard again. But, this time, he's not ready to run away, he doesn't want to run away from her.

Hermione sees his damning look at her arm and she immediately retracts it back. She softly says, "It's not your fault, Draco."

"I should have done more…" he mutters.

"You didn't out Harry. _That's_ what matters."

"But you're—!"

Her darkened brown eyes pierce into him, preventing him to speak. Hermione insists, "This word inspires me more than it scares me. It reminds me that I can prevent this from happening ever again; that I can teach other Muggle-borns that they're not inferior to purebloods as they think."

Hermione touches his left arm, right above the tattoo that he's always hated: the Dark Mark. "That tattoo tells the same thing. It shows how you're different, how you're brave enough to be more than you were expected to be. It shows that you're a hero, Draco. Not just another branch in your family tree."

Draco shakily sighs. He pulls on his sleeve and reveals the Dark Mark: an almost faded scar, but still visible to the eye. There are pinkish lines inside the Mark, and some charred and blackened skin randomly scattered along it. The poor state of Draco's arm makes Hermione gasp.

She touches it, her eyes crying out with pity. There, in the state of the single tattoo on Draco's arm, is where his true thoughts lie.

"Thank you, Hermione."

Hermione hugs him in reply and he feels as if he's never been safer (and loved).

* * *

 **One Month Later**

"Malfoy! Come out, you bloody arse!"

The said man groggily walks up to the door and opens it with a staggering yawn. Glaring at the person that has been knocking on his door the past hour, he growls out, "What the bloody hell do you want?"

Theo's fuming; his usual pale cheeks a dark red. Meanwhile, Ginerva Weasley's beside him, rolling her brown eyes at the way her co-worker's behaving. Theo, with all his might, points at his best friend and accuses, "You didn't show up for the dinner!"

"Oh, come off it, Theo," Ginny says exasperatedly, "it's just a _small_ dinner! Even Hermione didn't come!"

"We were supposed to celebrate my promotion!" Theo huffs, "You left a brother in need."

Draco rubs the bridge of his nose and admits to him, "We were supposed to go, but things got a little… way out of hand…"

"What, in Merlin's beard, do _you_ mean by that?" Theo grunts, dark eyes narrowing.

"Draco? What's wrong?" a new voice chimes in.

Ginny and Theo's jaws drop to the floor as Hermione nears them. She's wearing an oversized plain grey t-shirt and nothing else, whilst her hair is in an absolute mess. Ginny notes how Hermione is still wearing a face full of makeup, though her lipstick is a mess and her eyebrows are half-done. Then, they turn to Draco, who's wearing a red velvet bath robe, hair is in a mess as well, and his lips (and all around it) are a tainted red.

"H-hermione?!" both Ginny and Theo scream, "What are you doing here?"

The said girl widens her eyes as she realizes who is at the door. Immediately, her cheeks flush an even redder shade, and she averts her eyes guiltily.

As the pieces come flying together, Ginny has the audacity to exclaim, "Were you two shagging?!"

Draco clears his throat and slams the door in their faces.

" _Draco_ ," Hermione starts.

"They interrupted us!" he protests.

Ginny screams through the door, "Hermione Jean Granger, I _demand_ to know what's happening!"

With a look from Hermione, Draco sighs and opens the door again. He gestures for the two to come in. "Might as well say something since you caught us."

The two go inside; yelling obscenities that they didn't go to the dinner (Theo) and proclaiming that they knew this would happen sooner or later (Ginny). They march their way to the couch as Draco closes the door behind them.

Hermione gives him a brief kiss on the cheek and whispers, "Thank you." Draco decides that the beaming look on her face is enough for him to endure whatever it is that's coming for them (including Ginny and Theo's interrogation, eventually coming clean with Potter and Weasley, telling their parents, and maybe even proposing to live together once everything has come to pass).

Draco decides that he's okay now.

* * *

 _end_

 **quick author's note: thanks to those who reviewed, i appreciate each and single one of you :) i hope this ending is okay? i didn't want a big conclusion, because i figured it's not their style. thanks for tuning in on this story and see you in future fics!**


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